


Empty Spaces

by versus_versus



Series: The Event Horizon of the Observable Universe [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: A tiny bit of fluff, Bittersweet Ending, M/M, Separation Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 15:45:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6664633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/versus_versus/pseuds/versus_versus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo's been reassigned and there's no telling how long it will be before he comes back to the Finalizer, if ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty Spaces

**Author's Note:**

> If you're here for actual fun Emperor Hux stuff, skip ahead to the next part. This piece has been repurposed as is a sort of prologue to the series (which is being written out of order, my apologies).
> 
> I needed this off my chest. I wasn't going to post this, but I’m going to release it into the void of cyberspace and just try to let it go. It’s a choppy personal piece, so I probably won’t be answering comments on it. Until I can breathe through some things, until I can look at certain pictures or listen to certain songs without feeling hollow, I’m just going to throw angst at you guys. Make what you will of it.

Hux sits at his desk, reading reports on his datapad. It’s late, the clock blinking 0300 hours in narrow red lights. But Hux can’t sleep, so it’s no use wasting time laying there. Reports and data are familiar territory, almost easy for him even this late at night. Numbers he can handle. People are a bit more difficult.

He can see Kylo’s face from where he sits. In the darkness, the Knight is reduced to an unruly mop of dark hair, the hunch of his shoulders, the sprawl of long limbs twisted in the sheets. In sleep, his heavy brows are relaxed and his bottom lip hangs slack. It’s a far cry from his usual tense expression, or the unreadable mask.

The deep, aching tension between Hux's shoulders has settled, seeming to infiltrate the rest of his chest, winding about him like an elastic band, ready to snap. The stylus in his hand is a bit less steady than he would like, but it was unlikely anyone will notice any difference in his signature on the various documents he’s filed through.

The clock blinks 0330, and he hasn’t moved but for the small swirl of the stylus on the pad.

* * *

He’s looked at the mission dossier. He knows what’s coming, he’s known for days. Kylo hasn’t mentioned it. He’s not sure if Kylo has rummaged about his head and knows his thoughts or if he’s just as unwilling to talk about it.

Kylo and his Knights will be based on Carratos for the next eight months, with a likely extension. They’ll be there until the Inner Ring is more secure, something Hux estimates will take at least 18 months. When Kylo’s finally reassigned, there’s no guarantee he’ll be sent back to the Finalizer. In all reality, with as much as they’d fought in his early days onboard, the Supreme Leader might think it for the best to reassign him to a different Star Destroyer.

Kylo is leaving. It’s highly unlikely that he’ll be coming back.

* * *

Kylo became a staple in his life on accident. It should have been simple to stay distant, to maintain a front of cold detachment. Yet somehow, screwing around to release some tension had turned into letting Kylo crash in his bed whenever he wanted, and that had turned into something more sentimental that Hux simply thought of as 'sleeping together'. He refused to give it a more meaningful name as the admission might send him down a path he couldn't walk.

Somewhere along the way, emotions had come into play. Hux hated to admit it, but they’d barged into his life as unexpectedly a Kylo had, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them.

* * *

Kylo shifts in his sleep, pulling Hux from his introspective. His stomach churns unhappily, a sick feeling that threatens to crawl up his throat.

He can’t stay in his seat anymore. Instead, he moves from his desk into the small receiving room his position as General granted him. It’s six steps across from wall to wall, something he has known for years. He paces, bare feet padding across the lacquered floor. His hands clench the datapad as he walks back and forth in silence, tendons in his arms standing out and betraying the tension that’s settled heavy in his chest.

The words and numbers of the reports blur in his vision as exhaustion settles on him the way the tension does.

Hux fails to notice when Kylo wakes. He’s too deep in the numbers, engrossed and pacing, to take note until there’s a hand on his bicep, stopping him in his tracks.

“Come back to bed.” Kylo’s voice is quiet, rough with sleep.

“I can’t sleep, there’s no point.”

“You can work in bed, if you really need to.” He wraps his arms around Hux’s waist from behind, pressing his bare chest to the back of Hux’s undershirt and tucking his face into the crook of Hux’s neck and shoulder. It’s a posture that isn’t appealing in a sexual way, but it’s intimate and manages to be somewhat endearing. It’s the closest thing to softness that Kylo has.

Hux lets Kylo steer him, fully expecting to be aggressively thrown back on the bed, but instead, Kylo pushes him down gently and sprawls on top of him. He curls his arms around Hux’s ribs, wrapping about to cage him in with his wingspan. It isn’t long before his body goes slack and he’s asleep again, this time using Hux’s chest as a pillow as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He props his datapad on Kylo’s back and continues working, running a hand through Kylo's hair. It’s not a matter of sentimentality, it’s an issue of personal dignity. Kylo is the needy one in the…relationship? He shies away from the label. Whatever it is they call it. He’ll cuddle on occasion, in the warm afterglow of vigorous sex, but he’s not one for this nonsense.

Still, there’s something soothing about the gentle warmth of Kylo’s breath on his chest and the security of the weight of him. Hux doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s going to miss the awful mess of a man.

* * *

Three days later, Hux sits at his desk and glances up over his datapad.

The bed is empty.

As it should be.

When he finally tries to sleep, the bed is too big, too empty. The feeling that boils up at the thought is something like anger, something like sadness. Whatever it is, it makes his eyes burn and his chest ache.

**Author's Note:**

> Cause my echo, echo  
> Is the only voice coming back
> 
> For R, who will never see it. Thank goodness.


End file.
